Gone
by Nerdy Spoon
Summary: The battle with Corypheus is done. The war is over. It should be a time of celebration, of peace. But with the apparent loss of the Inquisitor, peace is scarce amongst the survivors in Skyhold. With no body to recover, and faith dwindling, the search continues in the hopes of finding their leader alive. CullenxLavellan romance, rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, it's been a while since I've written anything, so I'm sorry if this is pretty rough. But it's a little plot that's been bouncing around in my head since I finished Inquisition. **

**Keep in mind I wrote this while dead tired and have some more editing to do, and there may be more changes as I write further chapters. Hell, I don't even know how long this will end up being. But just know that more will come, and more of this will make sense. **

**Regardless, I'd like your thoughts! I'm always looking to improve and I want to know if anyone would enjoy seeing more. Feedback is awesome. :)**

**~Spoon**

* * *

Somewhere in between the hours of the frigid night and the long rise of the afternoon sun, fewer and fewer souls remained in the small office. Where once the space had contained Cullen's carefully laid maps and books and charts, it had now become a disheveled shelter for those held prisoner in their lack of direction. Papers were scattered across the desks and floors, trays of barely-picked foods laying forgotten. The only thing more unsettling than the persistent silence was its presence in such charged air.

The first to leave the haphazard planning team in the hours after their return was Josephine, unable to let herself idle in quiet grief, sputtering quietly that she had various correspondences to attend to; the last being Cassandra, noting in an unsteady voice that Bull would no doubt destroy the barracks if left unattended in his state. Hurried soldiers and stewards and other manner of visitors bustled in and out throughout the days and nights throughout, carrying weightless news or warm plates of food.

Those who remained did so with wordless resolve.

Leliana's quill was the most consistent source of movement, her scouts continuing to send word as the search grew on. Every few minutes she sighed as she signed and sent another note. And still their efforts had been fruitless.

Dorian, his wit long since dried and gone with his voice, stood silently at the port that overlooked the main gate, his eyes vaguely searching for something far beyond the mountains. His fingers played slightly with the cask he'd sent to be filled hours ago; it had never once lifted to his lips.

Vivienne remained in the corner, her posture having yet to falter despite the long hours and days they'd spent in waiting. Her lips pursed, fingers curled stiffly around themselves. It wasn't clear whether she remained for hope of news or her own determination.

Cullen, who had yet to sleep over the course of their days in this confinement, sighed in exasperation over his multitude of maps. Most of their faces had been marked with red, each ink stroke another line of failure. He tiredly ran his hands across his face and up through his disheveled hair, starting slightly as his eyes had pulled closed for a moment.

He dragged his view to the corner of his desk. Her shoulder piece had yet to be moved from where it had been set when first brought to Skyhold. The smooth, crystalline scales had been dislocated and burned, the cloth beneath torn into ragged strips. No one had dared touch it. It felt wrong. It would only find peace with its original owner.

Cullen knew just what she would say.

_"You're being ridiculous,"_ she would sigh with a smirk. _"That armor was heavy as a damn nuggalope, anyway."_

The former templar turned his head sharply to the side as his stomach turned, twisting away from the view of the armor piece.

The movement was not lost on their spy, her quill stilling mid-sentence. "Cullen—"

"Don't," Cullen rumbled. The silence returned for a long few moments before he sighed, eyes closing as his fingers pressed against his temples. "She has to be somewhere. It's been five days. Five damn days."

"We've got more and more people on the search by the day," Leliana offered curtly. "Varric's report from the coast is due any hour, and Blackwall —"

"Then get more men out there! The soldiers we tended to could be out looking by now, we could—"

"It wasn't your fault," a quiet voice offered from the corner, making the room's inhabitants jump slightly. Cole had curled himself into a ball on one of the end tables, his eyes down turned. Even his eyes, already so naturally dark, wore heavy bags beneath them. He'd been spotted in multiple places across the hold since their return, tending to as many of the broken hearts as he could. "Her last thought was that she was happy that you would be safe."

From the window, Dorian turned and froze. "Her last thought? But—"

Cullen stiffened, his legs feeling suddenly cold. "Cole, _do not_—"

Cole's face turned to sadness, one strangely his own. "Tired, aching, fire in her skin. It's over, Corypheus is dead, it's done," the boy started, before clenching his eyes shut. "Her hand reaches to the sky, the heavens grabbing her, tearing at her. Maker, it hurts!"

"Cole, stop," Cullen snarled, horror shaking his frame, standing and taking a step forward. Leliana dropped her papers, taking a ready step forward.

"The fire spreads, it takes her shoulder. I'm going to die. I'm dying. Maker help me… I should have told him. I hope he knows. Warm smell of pine, my fingers through his gold hair. He's safe. That's all that matters, that's all that—"

"Cole, stop!" Cullen finally roared, grabbing the nearest item he could - a heavy iron candle stand - and throwing it to the floor with as much force as he could muster. The thundering crash left silence in its wake. Cullen breathed heavily, his face twisted, his shoulders slumped. Leliana remained stone-faced with her arms ready to strike the commander if necessary; the rest of the room remained still in shock.

Cole sucked in a quick breath, shaking. "Gone."


	2. Chapter 2

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.  
Anywhere, I would've followed you.

**(_Say Something_ \- A Great Big World)**

* * *

The darkness that the woman's mind had been blissfully drowned in was suddenly ripped away as a fiery pain jolted through her arm. It felt as though her shoulder was being slowly torn apart, her skin being shredded away as it traveled toward her hand. As the pain grew deeper toward her bones, she weakly gasped out. The pain suddenly dulled.

"Oh. Did that hurt?" a tiny, silken voice spoke out.

Namyna had to catch her breath as her arm continued to pulsate with the pain she'd just endured. Her mind still felt faint, her body just as languid. Her panic flared, and she struggled to open her eyes. It took a few tries through heavy blinking to get her vision to stop spinning, but even through the haze she could only see wisps of grey material, only darkness behind. Leaving her pained arm limp, she attempted to lift herself with her good arm, but with little success.

"Please, you need to stay still," the voice urged.

Namyna let herself fall back again, searching for the source of the voice. To the side nearest her injured arm, a figure seemingly made of light stood with curious eyes.

Namyna's stomach clenched. Was she dead?

The figure smiled amusedly, tilting her head. "No, you're not dead. I made sure of that."

"Wh—" Namyna started, still catching her breath. "What's that…supposed to mean?"

"I healed you. Or, I'm trying." The spirit smiled, curling her legs where she stood. Instead of falling, she continued to hover, as though she'd found a place to sit. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she looked upwards in to the haze. "Just like you healed the sky. You did what I couldn't. So when you needed to be healed, I had to help."

The elven woman surveyed the spirit cautiously. It was in the shape of a young girl, maybe twelve or so, an elf like herself. Her hair was just to the top of her jaw, her features small. Her tiny dress, like the rest of her, seemed made of shifting light.

"You're a spirit of healing?" Namyna guessed unsurely.

The spirit turned back to her ward, her grin widening. "I am!"

"And we're…in the Fade?"

The spirit nodded. "When it was done, when you sealed the breach, it tried to take you too. It brought you here. Your mark wanted to take all of you, but I made it stop. It's still trying."

Namyna pursed her lips for a moment, her hazy thoughts trying to process.

"Did we succeed?" she finally asked, knowing the spirit would understand.

"You did."

Another pause. "Did anyone—"

Pity crossed the spirit's face. "No. You're the only one who was left behind."

Something stirred in Namyna. Cullen. She'd told him she would be back soon, that they didn't have time to send his troops. How long had she been gone? Did they know where she was? Where _was _she anyway? She needed to get back, needed to tell them –

She hadn't realized she'd begun gasping from panic until the spirit's cool hand rested on her shoulder, hushing her quietly.

"Just rest for now," the spirit cooed, a hint of sympathy on her glowing features. "You'll be well enough to return soon. For now, please rest."

A cooling sensation flowed through Namyna's skin from the spirit's touch. No matter her efforts to stay awake, her eyes slowly closed again.

Before she slept, she heard another voice. _"Namyna, forgive me…"_

* * *

Cullen sighed, looking over Skyhold's courtyard from the ramparts. Normally his favorite place to clear his mind, yet now it held no peace.

No matter how warm the setting sun still felt, it couldn't quell how bitter the cold felt against his skin. He'd shed most of his armor in the hopes his shoulders wouldn't feel so heavy, but they sagged nonetheless. He swallowed heavily, resting his elbows on the wall as he bowed his head.

"Long day, commander?" a familiar voice inquired, a smile in her voice. Her slender arms wrapped around his torso.

Cullen shuddered. Why did her voice hurt him so?

"Unimaginably," he admitted, running his hands along her arms. She felt cold. "But I can't rest. Not yet."

She sighed against him. "Why don't you come to bed? You've been working hard, and I'm leaving with the team early –"

Cullen spun suddenly, looking the dark-skinned elf dead in the eyes. He grabbed her arms with gentle eagerness, and she stared at him with surprise.

"Namyna, please, don't leave," Cullen nearly begged, sudden terror filling him. Even he was surprised by the urgency in his voice, the dread crawling beneath his skin. But all he knew was that her leaving Skyhold was the worst thing that could happen. "Please just stay. Let the team gather the information, we can send –"

That beautiful smile of hers crossed her face, lifting her small hand to his cheek, silencing him as he leaned into her touch. He craved the caress of her skin as though it was the air he needed to live. Something was wrong, and yet he couldn't place what it was.

"You worry too much," she sighed happily. "I can take anyone out in those damn groves. I've killed _dragons, _you know. Bull was there. He wouldn't mind telling the story yet _again._"

Cullen chuckled, but it felt hollow in his chest.

She sighed. "You know I love you. I'll be back before you've even missed me."

Cullen closed his eyes, cringing. Before he missed her? He missed her the moment she ever left his side.

"Namyna—"

The elf's hand suddenly slipped from his face, and he felt her body fall limp against him.

His eyes snapped open. Panic gripped him. Cullen's hands reached out to pull her to him, but found no purchase as they fell through the air. Where she had just been against him, empty space greeted him. His gaze searched wildly for her, his body going numb as he found her just feet away, limp and motionless on the ground.

Nothing else existed around him; Skyhold was gone, even the ground beneath him absent as his world violently centered on her unmoving form.

Cullen's knees gave out from beneath him, the man just barely catching himself with his hands to keep from crashing to the ground. A strangled sob came from his lips, his breaths coming in painful gasps. This couldn't be real. _It couldn't_-

"_You let this happen," _a penetrating voice broke out against the air. Corypheus. But he was supposed to be dead! He was supposed to… _"You let her go without soldiers, without help. How could she have survived? You _knew _this would happen. You willingly let her go to her death."_

"N-No…" Cullen felt his breath hitch, his heart hammer, his head spin. He was quickly losing control by the second.

He tried to reach out to the fallen woman with one hand, tried to move his legs to get to her, but his limbs had yet to obey him. He shakily looked downward, finding a glowing red enveloping any part of him that touched the ground.

His stomach turned. Red lyrium had wrapped around his legs and arm, working its way quickly towards his torso. Cullen gasped, pulling violently against the burning red crystals, pain ripping through his skin.

"No, no!" Cullen weakly cried out, tears beginning to stream as he looked again to Namyna, still unmoving. "Please, I didn't want her to – I wanted her to be safe, I couldn't stop – Maker, please…"

The lyrium continued to grow, gripping his bones, flowing into his gasping breaths. It was to his shoulders now.

"_You let the woman you love die, just like all of the others you couldn't save. You_ let her die."

"Namyna," Cullen breathed, the lyrium to his throat now. He closed his eyes, begging for the lyrium to take him. "Forgive me…"

* * *

Cullen's grip suddenly found purchase on the smooth sheets beneath his fingers, his eyes wildly opening to the dusty ceiling familiar to his quarters. His breath still came in jagged gasps, his body slick with sweat. His cheeks were frozen with tears.

Was the Maker truly this cruel?

Rage and hurt and grief and everything between flowed through his veins, and he moved out of the bed with unusual velocity. A moment later, his side table smashed against the wall with a thunderous crash, matched only by his raw voice bellowing into the morning air. He was again left alone, standing breathless.

A door opened somewhere beneath him, in his office. One of his soldier's shaky voices rose from below. "Commander?"

Cullen took a moment to collect himself before finally answering. "I'm fine. Return to your post."

There was a slight pause before the door closed once more.

Sighing, Cullen let himself fall back on to the bed, scrubbing his face with the ball of his hands.

"Namyna…" The name again fell from his lips, reminiscent of a prayer. "I do not deserve your forgiveness."

* * *

**I hope this makes sense so far! Let me know if anything doesn't.**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are always loved. Please let me know what you think. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

"She's the one they've been speaking of?"

"Yes."

"She's quite small."

"She's an elf. And she's been unconscious for a while, we need to take caution."

"Hmm. And a mage? Interesting. What was her practice? Maybe she wielded fire magic...No, perhaps electr-"

"You're going to wake her."

"Is that not what you want?"

"It would be healthier for her to wake in her own time."

"Seems illogical. Don't the living ones need exercise? Food? I wonder what kind of food her kind eats. Where did her clan live? Does her kind eat meat? Perhaps not. She is very small after all -"

"You're being disruptive again."

Namyna could hear the voices drifting in her groggy mind, like wisps swirling in heavy cream. She tried to grasp them, make sense of their words, but it was difficult with the pain that spread through her arm. Swallowing dryly, she turned her head, attempting to blink away the blurriness in her vision. Neither of her guests seemed to notice.

"I am simply inquiring," the first voice spoke. Deeper, and sounding highly indignant.

The small girl's voice answered, attempting patience but slowly gaining irritation. "I have few answers for you, and she needs rest."

"You've said that, and you have yet to answer why," the first voice replied.

"And you have yet to let her rest."

"But there is so much to learn! I have yet to speak to a physical creature. Let alone one so small-"

"Stop calling me small," Namyna's voice weakly croaked out, her telltale annoyance still present. She remembered when Varric had once joked that she'd willingly learn the Maker's wrath before attempting courtesy.

The pair of voices, whose figures the elf could only see in silhouettes through her tired vision, stopped and turned with surprise to their ward. The girl was the first to respond, her hands of light pressing against Namyna's arm, causing the comforting cool sensation to spread through her skin. Namyna sighed in relief.

"You're awake," the little spirit said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

Namyna swallowed, attempting to shift her body. Unlike before, despite her aching muscles, her limbs responded with tired accordance.

"I feel like I've been trampled by a pack of feral nuggalopes," she sighed, wincing as she attempted to sit up. It was a slow process, but with the girl's help, she was able to lift herself to sit upright. Part of her felt like falling back in exhaustion and drifting back into sleep, but she pushed the temptation away. She was tired of sleeping. She wanted answers. It took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

The spirit smiled. "You've been through a lot. But look at you! You're already up and-"

"Yes, good! You're awake, so I may begin my inquiry," the other spirit burst suddenly, bustling up to the half-awake elf. "I have so many questions for you!"

Namyna eyed him sourly as he sprung towards her. He was less physically formed than the tiny elf spirit, his wispy form possibly some mix between a human and a Qunari, his figure lithe and tall. She was almost sure she saw him shift to be more elf-like a moment later, it was difficult to say for sure.

"You're a curiosity spirit," Namyna stated pointedly.

"Yes!" the spirit beamed. "Now, do you primarily eat vegetation and flora, or meat and other living creatures? Where did your clan originate? Do they travel together in large groups, or in smaller-"

Namyna blinked at him annoyedly, half in disbelief, instead turning to the smaller girl. She wordlessly stared in annoyance.

The girl smiled empathetically, patting Namyna's arm. She turned away, yelling something into the open void that surrounded them in a tongue that Namyna couldn't place - let alone confidently place as a verbal language.

As the curious spirit babbled on, happily unaware that neither of his guests seemed to be giving much mind of him, another figure began to form in the darkness. This one was much, much larger than the others - standing at least four times taller than even the curious spirit - and standing on four legs. The large beast, made of similar light as the girl's, approached calmly as though it were a cat walking in from a nap. It appeared to be in a similar form of a large dog, or perhaps a giant otter. Maybe both, or neither.

With gentle calmness, the creature lowered its maw around the curious spirit, who suddenly began spouting words of indignance as the creature took hold of him, despite neither seeming to be altogether physical. While the spirit didn't appear to be in pain, it seemed rather purturbed as he was lifted and dutifully carried along by his midsection. Namyna blinked after them in surprise and discomfort as the large beast walked away with its noisy guest into the darkness.

"My spirit of protection," the girl informed with a bright smile. "Generally Pride and Greed don't make things easy for spirits like me."

Namyna nodded unsurely. How long was she going to be here again?

"Not much longer," the spirit responded. Her eyes lowered to the woman's arm. "Your mark is still stabilizing." Her tiny, cool hands traced Namyna's forearm to her wrist with careful, gentle movements. The moment her fingers traced to Namyna's palm the mark sparked with green light, causing the girl's hand to yank away. She frowned. "It should hopefully settle soon."

Nodding, Namyna stretched her fingers cautiously as the sparking died down again. She could see where the mark had split up her arm, leaving scars like spiderwebs across her skin. It scared her to think what she had looked like when she had gone through the rift.

"What happened?" Namyna asked quietly. Her eyes turned to the girl, almost pleading. "I need to know what happened that night."

The girl seemed unsure, pursing her lips slightly. The spirit's beast returned calmly from the darkness, silently taking a seat beside its tiny hostess. The spirit looked up to her companion unsurely, before turning back.

"It might hurt, remembering. It hasn't been that long."

Namyna swallowed. "I understand. I need this."

Hesitating once more, the spirit sighed. She crawled up beside her ward, settling on her knees as her cool hands swept gently across the sides of Namyna's face.

"Just relax. I'm going to be right here."

Something about this girl felt familiar suddenly, but Namyna couldn't place it. Before she could question further, she felt her mind slip backwards, falling into darkness again.

* * *

"Dorian needs help!" Cassandra cried, blocking another swipe from Corypheus's claws. The glowing man snarled as her sword swung into his shoulder. The more damage they dealt, the more Corypheus' movements seemed erratic, less calculated. It wouldn't be much longer.

"I'm fine," Dorian snapped, casting another barrier before sweeping his staff outward in an icy blast. His arm was bleeding heavily, but his stance didn't falter. His eyes swung to the Inquisitor, eyes concerned.

Namyna was panting with effort as she slammed the blade of her staff to the ground, another wave of electricity coursing across the ground to their enemy. Her muscles were shaking, exhaustion attempting to drag her to the ground as adrenaline and resolve kept her upright. Her eyes met Dorian's, both sharing a look of worry and exhaustion. How much longer could they keep this up?

"Ha," the Iron Bull barked out in laughter, though it was clear his energy was waning too. "Son of a bitch is tougher than the dragons!"

"Glad you approve," Namyna yelled out, sending a barrage of electric attacks through the air. Corypheus snarled as they made contact with his back, eyes turning to the small elf.

Bull pulled his greatsword back, prepared for another attack. "You kidding? This is more fun than the time you got drunk and-"

Corypheus' glowing eyes pulled away from the Inquisitor, sensing an opening in the Qunari's focus. A swipe of his hand sent crackling red energy racing across the ground, bursting with energy as it reached its target. Bull roared in agony, his back arching as the energy lit fire to his nerves, his muscles straining against the pain. He fell to the ground with a gasp when he was released.

Cassandra bellowed, her sword again falling on the magister. Though landing a solid blow, it left her defenseless, Corypheus' hand swiping back against the warrior's torso. Cassandra landed yards away with a painful gasp. Namyna could see her struggle to lift herself again.

Namyna screamed in frustration, turning to Dorian. "Cover them!" The mage nodded, doing as he was ordered.

Namyna's stare could have killed in that moment. No more. No more pain. No more suffering at his hands. It was time to end him.

Corypheus again focused on the Inquisitor, a smirk splitting across his face with the sight of her icy glare.

"You think you can stop this, stop me?" He laughed, though his voice was weaker than before. "I am a God. You are nothing but a mistake, a pebble standing against the river of history."

The elf didn't falter. "You will not be writing this world's history."

Namyna's magic crackled around her, energy gathering around her staff. It surged within her, almost painful to contain. She held tightly to her resolve, nails digging against her palm and staff as she could feel the magic beginning to burn her own skin. The mark glowed in harmony with her own magic.

Corypheus took a step back, snarling. He lifted the orb.

Namyna swung her staff outwards. The energy surged from what felt like her very core, the magic spreading from her legs and her arms and her mind and her chest into the staff, enveloping the large magister before he could counter. He screamed in agony as the electricity tore at him, cracking his skin and chipping at the vulgar obtrusions of red lyrium through his body. Blood split from marks across his face and arms. Namyna sent every ounce of energy her body could withstand, her hand burning as the magic flowed from her.

When her body could no longer stand the attack she collapsed to her hands and knees, her enemy following suit.

Corypheus choked on his breath, horror filling his features. His eyes glowed red, shakily pushing himself upright. "Not like this," he gasped. "I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages!" He lifted the orb above his head. "Dumas, ancient ones, I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now -"

Namyna's vision danced, but somewhere in the haze, she stumbled to her feet. Her staff lay unattended on the ground, splintered into multiple pieces. The mark still pulsed, its energy and her anger pushing her forward. Corypheus didn't even see her approach.

Lifting her hand, the mark crackled. The energy begged for the orb, reached for it, grabbed it. Feeling the orb slip from Corypheus' hold, Namyna yanked it back towards her between their gap, the magister collapsing again as the artifact was taken from him.

She didn't even hesitate. Lifting the orb to the sky, Namyna felt the familiar rush as the mark connected with the rift above. The burst of energy roared. The rift twisted, curled, fought to stay open. Namyna could hear the demons on the other side screeching as they clawed to get through. Her vision swam as sweat dropped across her brow.

With a final push, the rift finally closed, its mar on the world slowly fading into the clouds.

Namyna panted, her legs shaking beneath her. But her work wasn't done. She dropped the useless stone orb to the ground.

Corypheus stared at her with disbelief, stumbling backwards as she stalked towards him. Somewhere behind them, a boulder came crashing down. More were following.

"You wanted into the Fade?" Namyna snarled. Lifting her hand, she let the mark crackle one more time. Its energy crackled to life, wrapping itself around Corypheus' form in a vicious grip. Corypheus attempted to howl in rage, but his voice was swallowed as the green glow of a rift began to envelop him, tearing at the space he occupied. She could see his face twist into agony as his body glowed and was finally consumed. She pulled the mark away the moment he was gone.

She had never been so close to a closing rift, and she was glad for that. The rift attempted to reach out against the air, desperate to cling to the physical world. She could feel a hot pain rush through her arm as the mark reacted violently. The green energy began to weave across her skin, working its way to her wrist and then elblow. It continued to vein its way towards her shoulder.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could feel the rush of the air as the ground they'd floated on fell back towards its place. She could hear the boulders falling around her. Distant voices called to her.

"Boss!" - "Commander!" - "Where is she?"

A weak smile spread across her lips as coldness began to bloom in her chest as the mark continued to grow. The ground suddenly came up to meet her, but it felt as though she were watching it through another's eyes. Her body felt numb, void, cold. She had given more than she had realized, and as color began to drain from her darkening vision, she became increasingly aware of the faint beating in her chest.

"Cullen," she gasped out, barely a whisper. Green light filled her vision, and she was lost to the world.

* * *

Namyna was brought to her senses by the sound of her own voice tearing from her throat. Her lungs ached, gasping for air as she attempted to bolt upright. A cool hand pressed against her shoulder stopped her.

"Please rest, you're safe," the girl's familiar voice soothed.

Tears threatened to well in the corner of Namyna's eyes, which searched wildly for any sign of the boulders falling or Corypheus' angry glare. When her mind caught up with her, finally seeing the spirit beside her, she was left trembling where she lay.

Her chest tightened, her breaths coming heavy. She wondered briefly if they had seen her disappear, or...She pushed the thought away as her stomach turned. Her exhaustion doubled, she turned to her side and curled into herself. Her fingers grasped at the fabric of her shirt collar, wishing it felt more like the heavy weave of the commander's coat. Pain spread up her arm again, and she shuddered.

The spirit's hand moved to her forehead, waiting in gentle silence. Namyna's shivering began to fade, and the spirit smiled gently as the open space fell to calmness.

"You're safe," she reassured as the elf drifted again to sleep.

* * *

"You have a shield, you know. Use it!" a voice called out from the courtyard, then a laugh. "There you go! Less flailing means less dying."

Cullen grumbled, disoriented as he lifted his face from its uncomfortable place on his desk. His arms had been resting on either side of his head, both numb and sore. He blinked a few times to orient himself. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again after a long night of poring over various correspondences. By the placement of the sun, it was nearing the afternoon.

Brushing some of the wrinkles from his disheveled clothing, Cullen unsteadily made his way to the training yards below. To his surprise, Varric stood attention in the center of the sparring ring.

"Better get that stance ready, Jumpy. I bet the wind could get you with your stance so small!"

Cullen made his way to the dwarf's side, who in turn gave a smirk. Both kept their eyes on the bungling new recruits.

"Sleep well, Curly?"

Cullen swallowed. He didn't care to tell him of the repeated dreams of Namyna's return, or the fact that he'd begged for the lyrium nightmares to return instead. Varric probably knew already regardless.

"Since when did you know how to brandish a sword and shield?" Cullen asked instead.

"How you hurt me, Commander," Varric chuckled. "I might not be the best at holding swords, but I've been around Hawke long enough to see what goes wrong when she throws it around."

A chuckle from Cullen, and a comfortable silence fell between the pair. After a few moments, the commander cleared his throat.

"Any news from the front?"

Varric sighed, his gaze going distant for a moment. "They'll be back by sundown tonight. No signs in Emprise du Lion."

The commander sighed, hands tightening. He needed to check the maps again. Perhaps there were areas they needed to double back to, places where the search parties had been too small -

"Hawke suggested a night of Wicked Grace might do the crew some good when they get back," Varric added before the commander could excuse himself, a smirk gracing his features again. "Bull needs a night off. And it might be nice to earn your knickers back, this time."

A blush spread over Cullen's face, bristling at the thought. "I told you, that was my last-"

"You need the break, Curly," Varric added seriously. "Just a few hands, and a round of drinks. I think we all need it."

Cullen sighed.

"One hand. That's all you'll get out of me."

* * *

"A-And then, Maker you should've seen it," Sera gasped through her laughter. "He pulled it right off! Big lug fell right over in relief. His big ol' arse was straight up in the air!"

Josephine spit out part of her drink as she tried to stifle herself in a mix of horror and laughter. Hawke had already doubled over in giggles, the warrior's drink more on the table and herself than in her cup.

Cole shifted in his seat, his face crinkled in thought. His hands worked at a small cup of water in his lap. "But where did he put the Goatfruit if he didn't eat it?"

Dorian took another swig of the warm liquid in his mug with a smirk. "I'd very much like to know, as well."

A long pause, before the group burst into laughter once more. Even Cullen, whose demeanor was loosened by the hum of the warm liquor, barked out in laughter. Josephine's blush turned an even darker shade of red as she hiccupped. Across the room, Blackwall seemed to be preoccupied with keeping himself upright.

"Another hand, ladies and gentlemen?" Varric called out across the commotion, already beginning to shuffle the deck.

A resounding "yes" echoed through the room, followed by the sloppy pouring of more alcohol. The more drinks poured, the less the overwhelming somberness at the beginning of the evening drifted away.

* * *

When morning light began to filter in from the staircase, most of the room's inhabitants had found their way to their rooms - or to the floor, as Bull and Sera's snoring forms evidenced. The three that remained upright - Cullen, Varric, and (surprising the first two) Josephine, sipped at glasses of water. Varric occasionally catered to the passed-out Hawke curled up on the bench beside him. The present trio continued to giggle in the quiet air.

"Her letters had said they'd had some minor knicks," Cullen recalled with a grin. "Maker, she looked like she'd gone through the Sixth Blight all by herself with all the bandages she was covered in. I didn't even know you'd been against a dragon until Cassandra gave her full report."

Varric took another swig of water. "Would've taken the Blight over those damn lizards." More laughter. "She never backed down from a challenge though."

Silence fell on the group. Cullen hadn't realized they'd been speaking of the Inquisitor for nearly an hour. It felt as easy as though they were talking of her while she ran to get more drinks. Josephine and Varric seemed to fall silent with the same thought.

Cullen coughed slightly, straightening. "We should probably call it an eve-"

The sudden squeak of the door caused a jolt from the room. On the floor, Sera grumbled before rolling over once more.

Leliana's eyebrow quirked when she saw the disheveled room, and its even more so inhabitants. She cleared her throat, closing the door behind herself. A small pile of parchments was nestled in one arm.

"Good morning," she greeted carefully, stepping over the sleeping qunari mercenary sprawled on the floor as she went. "Seems the games last night were...entertaining."

"I doubt our heads will agree, in an hour or two," Josephine sighed.

"Mine already doesn't," Varric chimed.

"Is something the matter?" Cullen asked quietly, already alert to tightness in Leliana's shoulders, her posture unnaturally straight.

Leliana's eyes dipped to her papers as she laid them out. Cullen wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so hesitant.

"I've been communicating with Cassandra. She will be taking a short leave from her preparations as Divine to visit Skyhold," the spy informed.

There was a noticible pause. Josephine shifted, already beginning to understand. Cullen's stomach dropped.

"And the purpose of this visit?" Josephine asked quietly.

Leliana's lips pursed for a moment. "We believe her presence would be a good opportunity to hold a memorial service for the Inquisitor."

Cullen's ears began to ring. What did she say?

"We still have plenty of men to search," Varric bit out. "We can easly continue for at least-"

"Our work in Thedas is hardly complete, we need our soldiers back in the field," Leliana replied smoothly. "And without closure, the morale of our troops and of our guests has steadily declined. I would doubt it's escaped your notice, Josie."

Josephine didn't respond.

Cullen balked at his companions. "You can't seriously be-"

"It's been three months. It's time, Cullen," Leliana cut him off calmly. "Prolonging this will only cause more pain."

A long silence followed.

The room began to swim, and Cullen wondered if it was the liquor or the lack of breath in his lungs. It felt like he was watching through another's eyes when he numbly pushed himself away from the table, hurriedly excusing himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Josephine attempting to offer comfort.

The commander didn't appear from his quarters again for over two days.


End file.
